


Pieces

by towokuwusatsuwu



Category: Kamen Rider Fourze
Genre: Forgiveness, Friendship/Love, Healing, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-11
Updated: 2017-05-11
Packaged: 2018-10-30 16:54:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10881024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/towokuwusatsuwu/pseuds/towokuwusatsuwu
Summary: Tatsumori Yamada has more than a few pieces to pick up after his time as the Aries Zodiarts. He finds two unexpected friends in the process.





	Pieces

All things considered, it is unsurprising that Tatsumori Yamada spends the largest amount of time away from school. In more ways than one, it is a miracle that he wakes up at all. When his eyes open in the hospital room and the reality of his situation settles in, when he remembers the rush of power he had felt as the Aries Zodiarts, when he remembers how many people had suffered at his hands for nothing more than his whims, he doesn’t want to return to school. Even the comfort of being at Amanogawa instead of Subaruboshi is not enough to stir him from the hospital bed; he’s content to curl beneath the sheets and remain silent.

At the time, everything had seemed less than real to him; even the extent of his own powers had been something he could not quite grasp in any meaningful way. It takes him several days to remember the full course of his evolution, the Lepus Zodiarts Switch warm in his palm. When he had first journeyed onto the campus, it had felt less real, less solid than his own, and so it had been much simpler, much easier, to press the Switch he had been given.

There had been no one to stop him or corral him, and though Hayami had come to check up on him frequently at first, no one had come to fight him. That had come much later, when he had made the evolution from Lepus to Aries and when his abilities had reached their frightening and riveting potential. When his Switch had changed and when Gamou had congratulated him on finally becoming everything he was always meant to be.

It takes him an additional week to remember his deal with Ryusei Sakuta, the promise that he would bring his friend out of his coma if he killed Kamen Rider Fourze. The shock makes his heart rate spike to worrying degrees, high enough that a nurse had come to check on him, but his heart rate was hardly the reason why her presence became necessary. It was the following panic attack, the way he had clawed desperately at his own skin, the way he had screamed until his throat had been raw. It seemed like a scene in a movie, and yet it was real. He killed someone.

Two months passed before he found himself able to leave the hospital, and by that point he had withdrawn further into himself than he ever had before. He spent a few weeks at home, just trying to create some kind of routine, trying to venture out of the door without that overwhelming curtain of fear hanging over his head until there was almost no way he could leave the house.

In the end, he only manages a handful of days on campus before he finds himself too overwhelmed. Home school is how he finishes out high school, and though his grades are as high as they have ever been, and he ultimately graduates with honors, he feels no sense of accomplishment from it. University accepts him just the same.

He doesn’t expect to see anyone he knows. He certainly doesn’t expect to find himself sharing a literature class with Natsuji Kijima, the annoying rakugo club leader who insisted on making everything into a pun. Yamada had done his best to avoid him, silently irritated by his puns but never one to confront someone to their face.

The fact he shares this same class with Ryusei Sakuta is enough to frighten him into considering dropping the class just so he doesn’t have to see his face each time he comes to class. He doesn’t know if his frayed nerves can take the strain.

It’s only his second class when Sakuta speaks to him. Yamada has his head down, organizing his notes for the class, prepared to take more when Sakuta sits down in the empty seat next to him. “I hope you don’t mind,” he says, sparing Yamada a long and considering look.

“It’s fine.” Yamada clicks the end of his pen nervously, swallowing hard around the lump in his throat. His mouth is dry, his tongue like cotton in his mouth. “I would think you would avoid sitting next to me if you could, though.”

“Gentaro taught me a lot about forgiveness. In the end, we were all young and being preyed upon by someone who only wanted to use us for his own ends.” Sakuta extends his hand, and Yamada leans away from it. “I want to offer you that forgiveness if you want it.”

He has no right to ask for it, and yet he doesn’t have to. Sakuta offers it so freely with eyes that are warm and sincere, and Yamada bows his head before tentatively taking his hand. “Thanks.”

Their conversation draws the attention of the person sitting in front of them, and Yamada frowns when he sees the boy turn around in his seat, recognizing Kijima without even having to try. “What are the two of you on about with this forgiveness thing?”

Sakuta smiles at him, handsome and disarming, and Yamada ducks his head a little. “I meant to offer you this as well, actually. Holding onto the past only creates more problems in the future. We were young, like I said. We all made mistakes.”

“You throw forgiveness around like confetti. It should be more precious than that. That being said.” Kijima grabs Sakuta by the hand, flashing him his typical shit-eating grin. “Thank you. I was an idiot and I could have seriously hurt you and your friends.”

Yamada clicks his pen nervously again, and Kijima finally notices him. “You okay, Yamada?”

“Fine,” he says, twirling his pen between his fingers just to have something to do.

“You look pretty jittery,” Kijima says, and he leans close enough that Yamada has to physically fight his urge to shrink away from him to get some of his personal space back. “Look, if you don’t want to be here, we can always get you the notes after the fact. If you’re anything like me then the school probably already knows you might need to leave class sometimes.”

Bitterly, Yamada laughs. It’s true; his mental health has been down and out since his recovery, and though he does his best to make all of his classes and his appointments, the real world becomes too much for him sometimes and he has to get away from it all or risk his mental health in the process. And considering he would actually like to graduate from university and carve some kind of future for himself, he has to push through as much as he can.

Sakuta leans a little closer to him as well. “He’s right. Between the two of us, we’ll probably get everything you’d write yourself. Take a break if you need it.”

“Thank you.” Yamada shoves his books and pen back into his bag, bowing to the two of them before hurrying out of class, leaving the stifling room behind and stepping out into the fresh air.

It only occurs to him on the way back to his room that he’s never heard Kijimi speak multiple sentences without making a terrible play on words.

* * *

When a knock comes at his door during the early evening, Yamada sits down the book he’s been reading and climbs out of bed to see who’s come to see him. His roommate has been out all day and likely will not be home before tomorrow morning, having cited a study meeting that will go into the late hours of night and probably involve staying over with a friend. All things considered, the guy has been not too bad to share a room with.

Yamada opens the door just a crack, frowning when he finds Kijima standing on his doorstep “How did you know where my room is?”

“I realized after you left class that you didn’t tell us how to contact you with the notes,” Kijima says, holding up a sheaf of pages. “Sakuta and I had to do quite a bit of asking around to find someone who would know. Luckily, your roommate was in the library when we were making clean copies of our notes for you. You’re a hard man to track down.”

Smiling thinly, Yamada stands back, opening the door and gesturing for Kijima to step inside. “Sorry. I was focused on leaving the room as fast as humanly possible.”

“I figured that when you bolted out of the room on us. Like I said, we don’t blame you for it. I think I get it a little better than he does.” Kijima steps in enough for Yamada to shut the door behind him, setting the packet on top of Yamada’s laptop at the foot of his bed. “For what it’s worth, you’re handling things a lot better than I would have expected given what Sakuta told me after class. You sure you’re doing okay?”

“Ah, he told you about what I asked him to do.” Yamada grimaces, dropping down on the edge of his bed. The memory hasn’t exactly stopped haunting him.

Kijima sits down in Yamada’s office chair, leaning back in it. “To be fair, I stole their souls and cut them. If Sakuta hadn’t been able to kick my ass, they would have probably died.”

If that is supposed to make Yamada feel better, it isn’t exactly working. “Why did you decide to be the one who brought me my notes?”

“I asked Sakuta if I could do it. We didn’t exactly talk much in school, but we were both into words. I remember you getting in trouble in class because all you did was keep your nose in a book.” Kijima smiles, as if the memory is a fond one for him, but Yamada doesn’t understand why that would be a fond memory for him. “But more than that, we were both Horoscopes, we both made mistakes, and we both hurt people. But I get the sense I bounced back from that far better than you did. Are you sure you’re doing okay?”

Yamada chews on his bottom lip; the question is a difficult one for him, far more difficult than he can express in words. “Is it okay to not have an answer for you yet?”

“I understand. Yeah, it’s fine.” Kijima drums his fingers on the arm of the chair, and Yamada notices something else he happens to be missing other than just his wordplay.

“What happened to your fan?” he asks.

Kijima winces. “I, ah, don’t carry it around with me anymore. Truth be told, I haven’t exactly done any rakugo since I started back in school. It has a lot of bad memories tied to it, but I’m going to work on it, you know? What about you? It looks like you’re still reading.”

“Ah, yes, I am. When you don’t have many friends to begin with, books are nice.” Yamada shrugs, figuring his reasoning his self-explanatory enough. “If you, ah, wanted to try to work your way back into it… My roommate’s girlfriend is involved in the rakugo club here on campus and I know they wouldn’t mind another member making his presence known.”

Grinning, Kijima cocks his head at him. “You’re a really sweet guy, you know that? When it comes right down to it. Thanks for the offer. Maybe I’ll take you up on that.”

Yamada nods. He figures extending the hand of friendship might prove to be valuable, and he supposes it’s the least he can do when Kijima is clearly making some sort of effort toward him as well. “No problem. We might have done stupid things in high school, but we went through something terrible and it might be nicer just to have someone around who understands.”

“I like the sound of that.” Kijima nods at the packet. “Go ahead and go through that and see if it’s good for you. If not, I can do my best to dictate everything I can remember.”

The notes are fine. Just the same, Kijima sticks around.


End file.
